Resistance
by Kailey Hamilton
Summary: Anthony Goldstein is the leader of Ravenclaw's resistance against the evil forces that run the school. While he's giving everyone hope, he can't really find it in himself. But when battle knocks at the front door, will he be able to find not only hope, but strength and courage? Oneshot for the Characterization Competition in HPFC.


_Disclaimer:__ Recognize it? Not mine. Also, all opinions presented here are the respective characters', not my own._

* * *

**Resistance**

Anthony had been doing this all year long until he was caught.

"Is it true that the Muggles have grown to emulate magic?" A girl asked him. She was a good friend of his, Rebeccah Mayer, a pure-blood girl of sixth year whose curiosity was absolutely insatiable. He always thought she was a bit ditzy and childish, but liked her the same.

"There are many ways they've learned to substitute -never fully emulate- magic." He answered, telling this to an audience of about ten Ravenclaws, who listened intently. "The most known one... Anyone else want to say it?"

"Electricity," said a boy from fourth year.

"Very well." Anthony was pleased. His weekly 'What You Should've Been Learning In Muggle Studies' lesson was always a huge hit. "Becky, have you ever seen lightning?"

"Who hasn't?"

"Well, that's an electrical current. Muggles learned to imitate it and even channel it, so they can get it to do many things." Anthony opened the book he had used for the Muggle Studies class in sixth year, and showed them an animated picture of a light bulb. "They don't need candles to light up a room. Just one of these."

Becky gaped at it. Her reaction amused him. It was as if she'd never seen something so wonderful.

"But how did they find out they could channel electricity?"

"Yes, Mr. Goldstein. How?" That was Alecto Carrow's cold voice. Anthony froze on the spot - they all did. He didn't even have time to wonder who the hell let her in before being hit with a Body-Binding Curse.

* * *

"Your friend right here tells me you've been doing this since September. It's that true?"

Anthony scoffed in his mind. Why did she even ask, if he was absolutely paralyzed? She had him at her mercy, in her office. But yes, yes he had.

What amused him the most was that she still felt the need to pace around and talk like a Muggle movie villain. And who was this friend of his anyway? He knew that it wasn't Terry, or Michael, or Becky, or anyone one from Dumbledore's Army.

"Telling your House to love Muggles. To love Muggles! Amycus, have you ever heard something so outrageous?"

The Carrow siblings laughed like hyenas. Anthony felt like he was in a dense state of stupor and shock. He could only take in their grotesque laughter.

And the punishment hadn't even started.

He knew it was coming though. He was surprised it was taking so long. He and his two best friends had taken active part in the revolution against the dark tyranny that ruled Hogwarts. While Terry and Michael did things physically, Anthony's stand was more spiritual. Having been a prefect for a long time now, he knew he was expected to exercise leadership skills within Ravenclaw.

He made it his mission to make the Common Room a safe place. He would organize tournaments of different games and award articles from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes as prizes. During the winter they'd go out to snowball fight and roast marshmallows in the chimney. He also encouraged his housemates to organize lessons on a wide range of topics, some serious, some funny, some just plain silly.

Anthony chose to share his faith, believing it would give them all hope in those times of despair. He talked about the Jewish people and their traditions. He'd given a lengthy talk on the parallelisms between the Jewish Holocaust and the current War. He'd even taught basic Hebrew to some. But it had been his knowledge in Muggle Studies that had tipped the Carrows off.

He barely noticed that the Carrows were gone, and someone else walked toward him in a light step.

"Hi Anthony."

That mellow voice woke him from his trance. There was Mandy. Tiny, frail, inoffensive Mandy.

But she wasn't _his_ Mandy. Her face lacked expression, her black eyes looking like a freezing void. Her back was pushed straight making her look confident, and overly so. He felt empty inside all of a sudden. Where was the girl he had loved since he was eleven?

"You wonder why I'm here." Yes, he did. "Truth is, I wonder the very same thing myself. You're not a bad guy, Anthony. You were the only person to ever look my way and treat me with the respect I deserve. I'll never forget that. But now... Now you're so caught up in your glorious cause that I doubt you even remember we were great together."

How could he forget? They were together for a year. After longing for her a long time, Anthony finally had the courage to ask her out when the Yule Ball came along, in their fourth year. She said yes, and gave him the happiest night of his life. They were each other's first kiss. It was a tender memory, that with time had gotten tainted and twisted to the point it hurt him.

"I begged you not to choose sides, Anthony. Remember? It was better for us to remain neutral. But then you had to follow your stupid little friends and join Potter in his madness."

Anthony had believed Harry Potter's every word since they first left his lips. But Mandy didn't want to hear of it, nor did the Ministry, or anyone else. He suspected she'd believed the Ministry's lies, but was too eager to stay a couple to say a word.

"You sneaked out. You lied to me. The only person ever to not ignore me, and you chose this useless cause over me. I bet you never thought betrayal could come from within, from so close, now did you?"

Reality then hit him. Mandy had been the one who told the Carrows about his spiritual resistance. She did so out of a resentment Anthony didn't know she felt, since they had parted as friends. She was the one who was going to...

"I begged you not to choose sides, Anthony. But you did. Now I've chosen mine."

Sticks and stones may break his bones, but Mandy pointing her wand at him and mumbling_'crucio'_ broke his spirit.

* * *

Michael had been hiding for two weeks now. He had been beaten to unconsciousness after trying to save a first year boy from torture. He had always been the cheerful, handsome one. He now looked like all the life was sucked out of him.

Terry was yelling something about Potter escaping on a dragon. He had always been the logical, pragmatic one. He was acting more irrationally than he ever did.

Anthony was the quiet, spiritual one. He woke up every night screaming or crying, having nightmares of Mandy's eyes. Those were the true agony, and not the time he had spent being tortured by her.

Two years ago, he had introduced himself like this to all prefects and DA members, to their amusement : "I'm Anthony Goldstein and I cry like a child under pressure." After two years, he'd gotten way too used to pressure to keep crying.

He started crying again when he thought of what awaited Terry.

He wondered if God was seeing all this, though it seemed perfectly clear that God wasn't behind that hellish nightmare.

* * *

McGonagall's words were clear - people who were old enough to fight could stay. Anthony knew his place was there, with his friends, at Hogwarts. He closed his eyes in an attempt to gain determination.

He opened them to the sight of Mandy leaving the Great Hall with her head down. Before she was gone she looked back, searching until she found him. She was casting him that look, the one she had worn when...

Anthony's mind went blank. He knew he should be leading Ravenclaws to act. That he should be helping the teachers with all there was to do. But he felt his resolve weaken, wanting to chase Mandy and beg for an explanation, for a hint of the big, warm heart he knew she used to have.

"Come on, man. We've got to help," urged Michael.

"Mike," said Terry, "you go. I'm staying here with Anthony."

"Make him snap out of it, and fast."

Michael was gone, and now Terry and Anthony stared at each other.

"You're not fleeing, Anthony. Not after you've come this far."

"But I can't do this, Terry. I can't."

"Ravenclaw looks up to you as a leader. You can't fail them now. If you fall, we will all fall with you."

He directed his eyes at the spot Mandy had been standing moments ago.

"But I'm weak. And I'm a coward."

"Then find strength and courage" Terry said impatiently. "Remember, Anthony. Remember what the Carrows did to you. Remember that because of You-Know-Who, your family is on the run..."

He kept going, but all Anthony could think about then was his dad and little Vivian. They tried to convince him to run away with them, but he wasn't a minor anymore and chose to come back to Hogwarts. All Anthony had to be reminded of his dad was his most treasured possession - a Psalms book that would go with him everywhere from that day on.

Anthony realized that he had a way of finding strength, hope and courage. He felt God was as absent as he could possibly be, but he needed to search for him.

"I need to pray. Terry, don't roll your eyes at me" he added after Terry had done just so. "I've never understood why you think being a wizard must cancel faith."

"I'm sorry, mate. It's just that... well, those people you believe in. Let's say Moses..."

"I believe - well, I'm fairly certain that some of them were witches and wizards. But didn't they all claim to believe in one same God? Think about it."

Terry kept silent, taking in what Anthony had just said. Anthony and Terry were as different as they could possibly be, but that was how their friendship worked. While Terry was a firm atheist, he admired and respected his friend's faith and he knew Anthony did the same.

His questions had managed to distract Anthony from his initial shock.

"You go, Terry. I'll be done in a few minutes"

To Anthony, it was like this - while others were actively helping around, he was praying in his corner. He felt like a failure. All year long, he had advocated the rebellion, only to cower within himself once the time for battle came.

"Anthony? What are you reading? _Why_ are you reading?"

Becky -for he knew it was her before even looking- had managed to startle him. There were a few other girls with her.

"I'm praying," he answered succinctly.

"Oh. That Judaism thing, right? Sorry to interrupt then."

"What are you reading?" Hufflepuff's Susan Bones intervened. They were never the greatest of friends, but ever since they'd been DA Members together they've shared a certain mutual respect. "Becky tells me you've done a great deal at raising the morale at Ravenclaw. I'd love it if you shared with us this time."

Anthony was surprised to hear this, for it was the first time someone had openly praised his attempts to keep an island of normalcy within his House.

"Do you even believe in a God?"

"Not really, but I don't know where else to search for strength."

Anthony complied to Becky's request. He searched for a different psalm this time, and cleared his throat before praying for his little audience.

"My Lord," he started, the words ironically feeling foreign in his native language, "oppose those who oppose me..."

He kept reading, feeling how the girls had gone quiet in the background. However, when he got to a verse that said "My Lord, how long will you look on?" Anthony felt compelled to join them in their silence.

"Go on," urged Becky. But he was unable to. They all had seen so much evil. Every time he thought of Mandy's eyes when she cursed him...

Anthony raised his eyes to the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, ignoring the people that looked at him expectantly. The stars shone brightly; he appreciated their stillness. He was filled with rage, with an urge to act so powerful that it drove him blind with tears.

Those tears again.

"My Lord, how long will you look on?" He said in a loud, clear voice. Afterward, he lowered his head to continue reading. "Rescue me from their assaults, save the one life I have from-" the text said 'the lions', but in Hogwarts, where the lion was a sign of bravery, that seemed hardly adequate. "Save the one life I have from the serpents!"

Every word flowed from him as if he was making them up at the very moment. King David had been a warrior and these had been his words. He wanted to believe that he could feel his spirit possess him and give him strength.

Once he finished, Susan Bones quietly asked if she could borrow his book.

"It's my dad's. I want to keep it with me."

"Then please, read some more!"

He saw their eager faces and wondered how a God they didn't believe in could be filling them with hope.

* * *

Under the moonlight, all kinds of incantations shed their own kind of light. Red, yellow, blue, the dreaded green, the Quidditch pitch going up in flames... Anthony felt that a terrifying sort of beauty was thrust upon them. He also felt guilty for being entranced by the colors, when black-clad bodies were spread across the ground and it was impossible for him to know whether they were friend or enemies...

But wasn't this the very proof of God's greatness?

_My Lord, how long will you look on?_

He might have screamed this when he finally went into battle.

* * *

Now, when it was appropriate for him to cry, his eyes were dry.

He'd fought in the grounds. He didn't remember how many spells he'd cast or bodies he'd struck. He was only surprised he was alive and well. In his mind there were still the images of sparks and flash. He barely remembered anything else.

He walked between the bodies, staring at known and unknown faces with a blank expression. There was one that made his heart stop. He kneeled in front of it, not believing his eyes.

Susan Bones threw herself over the body, sobbing uncontrollably. This hurt him more than any death he'd witnessed. The dead are in peace, he reckoned. It's the living that need God now. His stomach lurched as he felt a pang of benign pity hit him.

"Susan," he said softly, trying to get the girl to release the body. He pulled her shoulders back, but she refused to let go. "Susan, please. Susan. There's nothing you can do now. Let her rest."

Slowly, the girl yielded to Anthony's efforts. He didn't know when she started hugging him and crying on his shoulder, but he held her back and let her release her tears just the same.

"Susan, it's going to be alright," he said, tried to convince himself as well.

"No it's not. Becky..." She broke into tears again, but now feeling an urge to speak. "I hate this war. I hate this useless killing. Why her? She was so full of life! She used to be cheerful even at the worst moment. She resisted torture with a smile. Why... why her?"

"I don't know, Susan. I wish..." he didn't know what he wished. He wanted the same things Susan seemed to wish for.

"She used to talk about you a lot, you know? The way you strive to keep everyone's spirits up..."

"I also admired her a great deal," he confessed in a low voice, interrupting Susan. He didn't want to hear more. He couldn't bring himself to accept it.

That couldn't be Rebeccah Mayer dead in front of him. It just couldn't be.

He thought of Mandy, tucked safely in her bed at home. Her conscience probably rested peacefully knowing that she'd tortured the person who had loved her the most.

He stared at Becky again. The Jewish prayer for the deceased started with the words "God full of Mercy." Anthony thought He was being just plain cruel.

* * *

Winning the war filled him with calmness. People were lost in their sad celebrations, their happy mourning, and all he could feel was relaxation. At least he knew Becky hadn't died in vain.

In the aftermath, he had only wanted to sleep. People were reuniting with each other, and he just wanted to curl up and take a nap.

Maybe cry some more.

He was simply sitting with Terry and Michael and some other people from Dumbledore's Army in the Great Hall, listening to them talk ceaselessly and trying to react at the right moments. But he was failing. All he could hear were snippets of conversations.

"...Anthony?"

He was slightly woken up when he heard his name. Hannah Abbott was the one to pose the question.

"Huh? I'm sorry, I wasn't..."

"I asked you how can you possibly have such a strong faith after all that's happened."

In the inquisitive silence that followed her inquiry, he allowed his mind to go over recent events. He was surprised to find out that he didn't have an answer.

* * *

Five years had passed, and five years he'd been praying for the war victims' souls. This was the first time his thoughts selfishly took over.

In his life, he'd asked for very little. As a child, he had asked God to get his parents back together. By the time he was eleven, his mother had almost disappeared from his life. She had a new, happier life, and was too frustrated by her Muggle husband and their children's faith to try harder.

He had asked God for Mandy. He'd said yes at first, but then showed him she wasn't even worth it. He'd had her, and what for? He begged him to get her to redeem herself, but what difference would that make?

He had asked God to give Becky's life back. But he knew God wouldn't. He asked at least the strength to accept her death, but there was no answer so far. He'd never experienced loss until he saw her limp body, and it still chased his most unsettling dreams.

He had asked God to win the war, reading from a little book of Psalms when it all seemed lost. God had finally said yes.

After the war, his mother renewed contact and finally seemed to be proud to call him her son. His dad and little Vivian were safely back to their old lives: he was a used cars salesman, and she was about to be done with Hogwarts. Mandy left England, maybe in an attempt to flee her conscience. Michael played Quidditch, Terry was working for Gringotts, and he was working for the Department of International Magical Cooperation. They still saw each other frequently.

After the war, he'd finally found a pair of lips he could constantly kiss. They often thought in bittersweet wonder of the circumstances that brought them together. Life seemed to go on a strange circle when Susan was pregnant with their first girl, and they immediately settled that they'd call her Becky.

Standing still in the cemetery, Anthony raised his eyes to the sky and proclaimed his thanks for the good things in life.

* * *

_Notes:__ Not bad for a non-believer, huh? Well, I was raised Jewish and have a strong Jewish identity, so I begged for Mr. Goldstein when I joined the Characterization Competition. I wanted to go deep in the aspects that conform an individual's character. Faith, love, strength, pressure and loss seemed like a good subjects to try and tackle._

_Thanks to __**christywitha CH**__ for proofreading this!_

_Please do leave a review and tell me how I did. Thanks!_

_-Karyn._


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